The sun dawns over the quaint, seaside community of Sandpoint; its warm glow marking the first day of autumn. A gentle breeze carries with it the smell of the ocean, a whirl of leaves just beginning to tinge vibrant fall colors, and despite the early hour, the sounds of rejoicing. It is the morning of the Swallowtail Festival, a celebration commemorating the loss of the cathedral to the goddess Desna in a fire that also tragically claimed the lives of Father Ezakien Tobyn and his adopted daughter, Nualia, five years ago and its subsequent grand reconstruction.
You find yourselves in the town square in front of the magnificent basilica where a stage and podium have been erected amidst countless vendors’ tents and tables piled high with delicious pastries and tarts. Sitting and conversing quietly amongst themselves near the rear of the stage is a troupe of local notables. As a rabble swells around them an attractive woman with short auburn hair takes the podium. A hush falls on the crowd as she begins to speak.
After a round of applause a rather dour looking Shoanti man wearing an armored coat takes center stage and clears his throat after shaking hands with the mayor.
He gives a curt nod as the following applause is somewhat more muted than what Kendra had received and, unfazed, returns to his seat at the back of the stage, passing an older, brightly dressed man with a well groomed goatee who seems to be thoroughly enjoying the morning. As he reaches the podium he loosens his collar and winks to the crowd.
The crowd cheers as Cyrdak motions to a surprisingly young man wearing the ceremonial robes of a priest of Desna. He smiles as he steps forward, noticeably abashed at the reception set up for him. He smiles and motions for the people to calm down, eventually beginning to speak.
Within minutes the crowd descends in all directions. Criers call out advertising activities of all sorts. All around you are carnival games waiting to be played, veritable mountains of free food and sweets begging to be eaten, shady folks gathering at Harrow tables piled high with coins, painted up pretty boys and girls of the Pixie's Kitten Brothel wandering about, drinking contests starting despite the early hour, and more.
Ansruath stands at the back of the crowd as he listens to the speeches while also looking around to see all the different people that showed up for the festival. After Father Abstalar speech is finished he walks around to see some of the different actives that are happening.
After seeing some of the different actives he could not make up his mind so he goes over to some locals to ask says in a deep but soft voice "Hello I am a traveler visiting I have never been to this festival before which actives do you suggest that I join in?"
"Well you look pretty tough," she says after a moment of thought. "And I'd be interested in finding out just how strong half elves are. I hear our smith, Das Korvut, has rigged some contraption out of a bell and log that you strike with a mallet and it tells you how strong you are. He calls it Ogre Stomp or something to that effect. I could have father and mother finish up here and show you the way, but of course then you'd need to win me a prize in return..."
Ansruath looks the young woman in the eye than bows. After he returns to his normal position he says "Something to test your strength? Sounds like it can be fun. That seems a fair trade a prize for you stopping your work and also taking me. Thank you for your kindness. My name is Ansruath," he than thinks for a moment."Before we leave may have some food, eating rations for the past fortnight has lowered my supply."
"Shayless Vinder. [She motions to some pies near her.] Mother made these herself, special for today. Have all you like, Ansruath Half Elf. Feel free to tell me of you life on the road and when your full I'll lead the way."
Ansruath grabs Shayless's lightly than lowers himself to touch his forehead to her hand. He than goes to the pies looking at them before picking one that suits his tastes. After eating the pie he cleans himself off than says "Thank you for the pie it was very good. Not much to tell the roads were clear. I will say though it was quite something to travel here so much to see. Though do not call me Half Elf my name is who I am."
After speaking he walks up to Shayless waiting for her to show him the way.
Shayliss shrugs nonchalantly after she doesn't hear a reply and stands and walks away, swaying rhythmically to the music of some nearby street performers, turning back briefly to beckon you to follow. She winds through the crowd until you hear a gruff voice in a thick, yet indeterminable accent call out.
"Step on up, boys! No girl likes a noodle-armed weakling. Let's see your strength! Win a stuffed toy hand crafted by Miss Povalli herself. Just three copper a try."
Just ahead through the rabble you see a freshly painted sign, its letters still running. Below it you see an odd contraption. An iron weight has been set on one end of a board placed over a pivot and in a groove that runs vertically along the length of a split log. Along the edge of the groove are three colors painted at varying heights and at the top is a freshly forged bell, gleaming in the dawn light. Next to the strange peice of carpentry stands a bald man with thick red muttonchops holding an enormous mallet in one hand and a foaming mug in the other. He reeks of stale ale and despite the hour looks like he's already knee deep in flagons.
"You there, sir, with Miss Vinder. Care to give it a go. Easy as can be. Hit the board and ring the bell. Win a cute prize. Just three pennies it is. [The enormous man motions to you, spilling a bit of the contents in his mug.]"
Ansruath gives the man three pennies than says "Thank you neighbor let me see how this goes." He than takes the mallet from the man and stands before the machine and gives a mighty swing.
"Well, lad, you gave it a good try. Didn't ring the bell, so I can't give you the stuffed toy, but you did well enough to earn yourself a ribbon. And you proved that you're strong enough to lift the heaviest mugs they make and that's really all that's important, isn't it?"
He gives you a hearty clap on the back after presenting you with the small prize, then leans in close and whispers so that you can barely hear above the din.
"If you want to give it another shot there, I can make it a bit easier on you for another extra three coins? He taps his nose as he offers."
Gorgoron arrived a few days early for the festival, and has been helping out where he can, unloading carts, building vender's stalls, and helping the locals bring up their wares. He has let the locals know he is available to help out with any of their chores. He has also tried to spread about the reason for his being there, and asked the locals to give his name and description to anyone who looks like they might be in need of new clothing or warm blankets.
When the festival itself actually begins, he will still heed any call for aid that might come, but in the meantime he finds a hot meat pie and and mug of ale. He finds a comfortable spot near where the locals are gathering and eating and introduces himself to any he has not yet met.
Ansruath looks at the man than says "I promised Shayliss a prize. I keep my word but do not make it any easier." He than hands the man another three coins. He than goes to swing at the machine again.
"Very well then, sir. He raises his voice for the crowd to hear. He's going to give it another go, folks! Let's see him put some muscle into it. Earn it, lad, earn it!"
The smith steps aside and gives a bow, signaling for you to swing. Your mighty blow splinters the board and sends the weight skyward, not only ringing the bell with a resounding clang, but knocking it clean off! A healthy round of applause and cheers accompany the feat along with a string of grumbled curses from the drunk running the game after a moment of shock. Shayliss looks shocked and excited at the powerful blow.
"I said ring the bell, not break the bell! This is going to take an hour to fix at least. Take your prize..."
He roughly hands you a stuffed dog toy of excellent quality and for the first time sets down his mug to pull out his tools and sets to repairing the now very damaged contraption.
As you enjoy a free meal a older looking man with grey flecks in his hair wearing over-sized spectacles sits beside you, face tucked into a tome that looks nearly as heavy as he. He does a double take out of his book after a moment and gently closes the thing.
"My, my. It's been a long time since I've seen a dwarf this far North of Janderoff's mines. A pleasure it is to meet you, sir. You may not have noticed but you are a bit out of place, yes? The name's Quink. Brodert Quink. I work as one of the sages here in town. I spent two decades studying ancient dwarven architecture, but rarely have I ever had the chance to actually converse with one outside of work. A dwarf that is, not architecture. No offense, obviously, I'm just a bit excited. The only other dwarf in town is usually far too busy to entertain my inquiries. What brings you to town, my fine dwarven sir? He speaks in quick rhythm with a nasal voice."
"Pleased to meet you, Master Quink. My name is Gorgoron, and I'm afraid it has been a few good years since I've set foot in Janderoff. As for why I am here, I am here for the festival, and for the people attending it. I have brought with me things for the poor, and hope to be able to distribute them to those who can make best use of them.
"I would gladly tell you what I know about dwarven architecture, but I am afraid it is not much. My training runs to a different vain all together, I'm afraid.
"What is your trade sir? Are you an architect yourself? Or perhaps a carpenter or enginer?"
Ansruath looks at the broken machine standing very still thinking to himself than says to the smith "I am sorry for broken the machine neighbor." He than turns to Shayliss and gives her the stuffed dog than says in a calm voice "The prize as promised. Now is there any other event that you would suggest?"
He appears slightly crestfallen that you aren't an engineer of any sort but recovers quickly, adjusting his glasses.
"If you are looking to help the poor you should track down Ilsoari Gandethus. He is the headmaster at Turandarok Academy. That's the local schoolhouse and orphanage here in Sandpoint. They always could a bit of helping out, children are the future after all, eh? 'tis a sham that you are not an architect, sir Gorgoron. I have some interesting theories about the Ol' Light, the lighthouse just down the beach. Everyone here thinks I'm batty for them though. I guess they just don't recognize true genius. Oh well. As for my trade...well I've dabbled, sir. I studied dwarven architecture in Janderhoff for two decades, but after that I spent 3 decades as a cataloger in Magnimar's Grand Library. Now I'm retired, but spend most of my time at the Curious Goblin, the library and bookshop, answering peoples questions on local history and engineering for a spot of spending money. In fact I helped Belvin Valdemar out with a secret project for the festival today. He's got is set up down Junker's way if you'd like to take a look. Oh, and if you ever need any questions answered I'll spot you the first few free of charge."
It seems like he could prattle on for some time, but is friendly enough.
Smith Korvut grumbles with a dismissive wave as he sets to work on his repairs, but is drown out by the many people commending you on your impressive display. Shayliss playfully hugs the toy tightly.
"Don't worry about him. As much as he'll complain he likes the work. Keeps his mind off the Late Unpleasantness. Besides, this publicity will get him more business through the day. If you want to play more games I hear there's an archery range set up down on the beach, or we can see some of the cute dragons down on Market Street."
Ansruath stands to think for a moment after hearing Shayliss words. He than turns to her and says "I think the dragons would be a good idea I have never been a good hand at archery lead the way if you would."
"Thank you for the information Master Quink, it is appreciated! How would I find Ilsoari Gandethus?
"The surprise sounds intriguing... nothing dangerous I trust.
He'll speak with the man long enough to be polite, and then excuse himself.
"May the lady of light's blessing be on you sir; good day."
"Ember!" A harsh shout comes from the crowd, directed towards a strange black fox that has begun tentatively creeping towards the swine for the 'catch the pig' competition. The fox cringes and skulks over to a tall, ruddy-skinned man with loosely worn silver hair. "Keep away from that animal," he scolds as he wags an admonishing finger. "There's no telling how long it would take to get that grease out of your fur..."
The fox responds with a short bark that seems almost sarcastic, and the man gives an exasperated sigh as he takes up his curious runed walking stick and begins meandering through the crowd, Ember close at his heel. A smile breaks across his face as he sees the throngs of villagers making merry, though most of his attention seems to be directed towards merchant stalls. He begins casually browsing those vendors that offer practical goods. Food, sacks, rope, and other such essentials - these will all draw his eye, as will the various curios. He makes sure to keep an eye out for the works of glass that Sandpoint is known for.
"By the divine... How long do these folk tend to prattle on?" Sighing heavily Flit kicked his heels roughly against the smooth polished wood of his perch, as a young highfaluting do dah of a Priest stepped up to the stage.
The suns bright rays had stirred the Halfling from his bed early this morning, dragging him from the depths of his first proper sleep in over two months, like a large fiery ball of spite. He had stirred and groaned, his head pounding from the previous nights indulgence, cursing every damned thing in the world, but especially the name of Cayden Cailean.
With a grimace, Flit spat sourly onto the ground beside him, remembering vehemently the curse he had uttered this dawn. "Gods damned God of Ale. God of unmerciful hangovers more like!" He chewed his lip for a moment, lost in thought, before sticking the cigar he had been smoking, back into his mouth.
He had left Tar snoring like an Owlbear and had crept from the room, seeking a jug of water and a meal.
"Gods damned Consultant snoring. No wonder I was woken up. I'll have his tusks for this!" Grumbling acidly, Flit careful massaged his belly and burped loudly, with a groan. "Cayden bloody Cailean!"
His belly suitably full, Flit had left the cool confines of the Inn for the harsh morning sun, swearing everything that crossed his path, especially one bloody great dog that had almost knocked him on his behind as he had made to cross an alleyway. He had, naturally, gravitated towards the stage, where upon some namby pamby dignitaries were now boring him to death with speech after speech.
"Soft the lot of em. Apart from that there Sheriff. He looks the solid sort. Good law abiding man. Must remember to have a talk with him after. Tar ya hear me? Remind me right? Tar?" Cursing sharply he turned to peer around himself. "Oh that is right... Bloody Consultant snoozing his head off!" Grumbling to himself, Flit gave a grudging round of applause as the crowds began to disperse.
Sighing softly the Halfling dropped down off the barrel he had been sitting on and dusted off his long coat, before straightening his hat. Jamming it back on his head he dropped the butt of the cigar to the ground and stamped it out, before wandering away in search of some entertainment.
"Where is my Gods blasted Consultant?" he scowled softly and threw an aimless kick at a stupid bird, before shoving his hands in his pockets and wandering off down to the beach, feeling the comforting thunk of his Crossbow against his back. "I have a mind to shoot me some targets!"
Flit's shouts quickly attract the attention of Ember, and the fox begins racing towards the halfling with an eager yelp, though he is stopped short by Dherisan's curt call.
"Apologies," Dherisan offers as a few brisk strides bring him to the disgruntled marksman. "He spends most of his time in the wilds, and I'm afraid he gets rather excited when he's around crowds of people. It seems I can't bring him anywhere these days..." He absently passes his staff from one hand to the other as he regards Flit with a bemused grin. "You do call a lot of attention to yourself, though. I don't believe I've ever seen anyone so irate at the Swallowtail Festival. What has you so flustered, if you don't mind my asking?"
"What in the Divines...?" Flit took an involuntary step backward as the Fox shot towards him, his hand shooting to his Crossbow before he forced himself to be still. 'What in the hells is a fox doing in a city?' he thought with a frown, scratching his head as a tall man stepped towards him.
Flit stared up at the man with a grim look on his face as he spoke. So the Fox was his was it? Interesting that. Flit was used to seeing Fox's in the wild, but never as someones pet.
'Call a lot of attention to myself? I was minding my own business and not hurting a fly, no sir. Well... Bar that damn bird. Ugly thing anyway!' He chewed thoughtfully on his lip before answering the man. "Well this is the thing, right, my Gods blasted Consultant, right? Well that big tusky oaf right, he snores like a damned Troll. Which, in hindsight I shoulda guessed from his ugly mug. So we got in to town last night and I decided to pay homage to that blasted whores-cus of a God, Cayden Cailean, by drinking meself into a right stupor. All went well. I ended up in me bed and didn't hurt anyone. All in all a good night, right?" he paused then, pulling a cigar from his sleeve and sticking it between his lips, striking a light to it before exhaling a ring of smoke and shaking his head.
"No. Not a good night. I wake up at the crack of dawn to my Consultants snores shaking me head and that big orange spiteful ball glaring in me eyes. Not a good night at all. Not for old Flit here." he shook his head again, taking another draw on the cigar. "To hells with it. I'm up now, no use belly-aching right? Besides... I have a mind to run this here Shooting Range. See how it goes. Maybe my damned Consultant will find me there. Who knows? Not I. Not old Flit! Now Master Fox tamer, care to take a stroll to the beach or do you have somewhere to be? I figure your a big chap, I wont have no trouble making the crowds if your with me and you can look out for my damned Consultant!" he grinned up at the man before him, his teeth holding the cigar in place.
"I'll even let ya box him in the ears first, if ya like!" Flit laughed manically for a second, enjoying the image of the Fox Tamer boxing the blasted Half-Orc.
“Ever wonder which dragon is the quickest? It’ll only cost a copper to find out. Pick your favorite color and race it down the track. First place doubles their investment! Whose ready to be winner?”
A thin man in a fine leather coat appears to be the speaker, already there is a group lining up to play.
”Oh quite dangerous indeed. I’ve conjectured that the Ol’ Light was once an ancient war machine capable of spewing magical gouts of fire for more than a mile out to see. Those ruins were here before even Magnimar was founded, sources say, and when they build the town they used the foundation for a lighthouse.”
“And a fine day to you too, sir. If you ever wish to seek my company again, you know where to find me. He bows cheerfully as you depart, once again burying his nose in a book."
“I like your furry friend. [The woman smiles warmly, with a nod to the fox.] Can I scratch his ears, or does he bite?”
She has a thick accent. She seems pleasant though, as she cuts off a strip of fish and leans down, offering it to your familiar.
As you make your way to the beach you see a crowd around an older, balding Varisian with a thick black mustache and a noticeable beer gut.
“Do you have what it takes to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil and keep him from menacing the countryside? Take ‘shot’ and see! Hah. A copper a try, nothing more. Two shots to win the most delicious pies in town – baked fresh this morning by Alma Avertin of Sandpoint Savories!”
Some fifty yards past him is a wooden silhouette of a rearing horse with tattered bat-like wings. A bull’s eye is painted where its heart would be, if it were alive. The man between contenders proceeds to tell obviously exaggerated and most likely horribly untrue stories of his personal encounters with the mythical rampaging beast.
Ansruath turns to Shayliss after looking at each of the dragons than says "I think the black or gold dragon look like they can win the race which do you think?
Ember is only too eager to accept the morsel offered by the Tian woman, scarfing it down before planting himself before her, an expectant glare in his eye. Dherisan is unable to stifle a laugh as he turns from Flit to face the woman.
"By all means, scratch away. He might offer you a playful nip, but you're hardly in danger of loosing a finger, and he loves the attention."
He takes a moment to survey the stall, shutting his eyes as the scents tease his nostrils.
"You know, at first, I was intrigued by the designs on your plates - they're magnificent, but now I can think of nothing but the food on top of them. I don't suppose it would keep on the road?"
"Fascinating aye and dangerous too. So many drunks, all of em worshiping that clod Cailean, right?" Flit made a shrugging motion, exhaling a cloud of smoke as the walked. "Its gotten to the state that Iomedae, God be blessed, is second to this rascal in places. Madness." Flit shook his head and sighed, ambling along beside the man.
"Prestigious indeed right? Not many can spot for old Flit. Not many want to, truth be told!" he laughed deeply, taking a moment to enjoy his joke upon himself. "Hunting Devils is a grand lark, till they hunt you back. Oh the stories I could tell..." he gave the Fox Tamer a knowing look, and nodded softly.
They walked on a little, staring at the stalls and the activity around them, till the man introduced himself.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance Dehrisan. I am Flitter Whistle!" he sighed inwardly and grumbled. "Friends call me Flit. Everyone calls me Flit. Apart from my Gods damned mother, may Iomedae watch over her." At the mans question Flit smiled, giving Dehrisan a wicked grin. "Say, right, you have an infestation of Orcs in a cave near by and you need to get em gone, right? Well that's what I do. Only sometimes, right, them Orcs have got Shamans and the like and old Flit, I ain't got a head for the magic so I have my Consultant. He is a good lad really. Works hard. But snores like an Cat in heat! So me and my Consultant, to cut it short, we hunt your Monsters, Mister Dehrisan!"
Dherisan purses his lips as he turns back to Flit.
Monster hunters? Sounds like an exciting line of work, but take care of your motives. Protecting the helpless from those that would threaten them is a worthy calling, but do not forgot that a life is still a life. There are some drawn to such a profession for the thrill it provides, or for the bravado associated with it, but each creature you strike down is a trade. I won't question the necessity of what you do, but I'd caution you to take heed of the stakes involved."
Flit took a moment to look over the stall, frowning softly over the plates. They were nice, to be sure, but somehow he did not see a need for them in his line of work. Not that he didn't like nice plates or anything, more he was sure he would break them in a fit of rage at his damned Consultant.
"I wont argue with you there Mister Dehrisan. If at all possible I like to take the offenders to the local Magistrate but alas, sometimes things do not go that way!" He nodded softly, stubbing out the Cigar and sliding the butt in to his pocket, not wanting to discard it in front of the woman.
"I am a great believer in 'Live and let Live' but sometimes a creature goes too far. Take last spring for instances. I stumbled across this little village right, Four Lanes or some such, cant really remember now, and they were having a spot of bother. It seems a Clan of Goblins had set up in a nearby forest and, wouldn't you know it right, children had begun disappearing. Now it started with livestock, sheep and the like, a few chickens and, had it stayed there I woulda dragged em outta that forest to the Constable. Alas, however, them Goblin eyes saw a sweeter meat and they went for it." He paused there, pulling his hat off his head and staring at the ground before his feet.
"Three babies snatched from their cribs, may the Gods bless them poor little souls!" he shook his head sadly and looked up at the man before him. "I don't regret laying Iomedaes justice on those nasty creatures, not for a second. My only regret is not getting to that Village earlier. Not being able to have saved those three sprogs!" he stopped then, looking back at the ground.
Dherisan places a hand on Flit's shoulder and gives a comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry, it was not my intent to conjure up such memories, but it's best not to dwell on them. Honor the dead, but direct your efforts towards those who yet live." He removes his hand as he checks his purse and turns to the Tian's woman stall, browsing her food.
"In any case, I respect your conviction," he continues as he ponders exotic foodstuffs. "I make circuits around Varisia, so if you ever find yourself in need of another "consultant," leave word in any town, and like as not I'll hear it eventually. However, we dishonor the spirit of this festival with such somber topics. Any interest in foreign food, Flit?"
"Nonsense my friend. It was not your fault I remembered that. I never can forget!" Flit cocked a grin up at his companion and nodded softly.
"Aye. You speak sense there, or I am not named Flitter Whistle!" he grimaced softly but smiled none the less, pulling another Cigar from his sleeve and sticking it between his teeth, lighting it up.
"I appreciate the offer greatly Mister Dehrisan. I can always use more Consultants. This one, I am afraid, seems to be broken!" he laughed softly, taking a deep pull on the cigar, exhaling a couple of smoke rings, watching them drift up above his head.
Flit turned slowly, staring out over the crowds. Dehrisans' pleasant company was doing wonders to alleviate the hangover he was suffering.
Dr. Tardek Skarn, alchemists, medicine man, and brewer of concotions rose late on the day of the festival. He sat up, then swung his legs lazily over the side of the bed. I need a break, he thought to himself. That last job was grizzly. Goblins and babies. Nothing I could do to save a one of them. He shook his head sadly, stepping out of bed and washing himself meticulously in the basins in the corner of the room, until his greenish skin was shiny and unblemished. Stretching, he began to methodically lay out his clothes. Its a wonder I slept at all with that Hells-cursed halfling snoring, he's even worse when he drinks. Don't know how we didn't get kicked out of the in. Fascinating really. I wonder what makes him snore so? Maybe an arhytmia in the chest? Tardek smiles at the thought of Flit's face should he suggest a bit of gentle surgery.
He soon steps out into the bright streets, immediately and instantely drawing the looks of the local townsfolk. Tardek is over six foot tall, with long wiry limbs, short-cropped hair, and most obviously and noticeably, green skin and very small tusks poking just out above his lower lip. He is immaculately dressed. A finely pressed whit shirt, rolled precisely five times up to leave his arms bare. He wears a leather crafters' apron over it, as well as sturdy trousers and short boots, not made for travelling but for walking around town in the heat. He kept his travelling boots with his weaponry and armor in the Inn. This is my day off, he thoguht happily, and then immediately set to work.
With some awkward wranglinh he managed to convince a local to give him the use of a table and some alchemical equipment. His own belt was adorned with vials and flasks, ungents, barrels, pouchs of ingredients, and more. Setting himself up in the space he set to making a small tincture, perfect for those suffering the aftermath of 'Cayden's Blessing'.
It doesn't work, and after four minutes he abandons te first concoction and tries again.
He succesfully completes the panacea for the ill of head in almost seven minutes. After this is done, he offers in his cool, formal voice to help make some alchemits's grease for the pig catching competition.
As he does this, he makes a few small pouches of flash powder to amuse the local children.
Knowledge Roll:
The morning starts early for Alyoma's family, setting up the wagons in the town square, assuring the sheriff that they mean no trouble, setting out the table of father's jewelery and trinkets, and preparing for the the dancing.
As the festival finally gets underway, Alyoma joins her mother on the small raised platform, and together they perform a traditional Varisian dance (sutable for families).
Alyoma glances at the crowd as she performs, wondering if they will make good money here, wondering if either the theater or inn will hire them for an engagement, but mostly wondering what Desna has planned for her.
Many children cheer and flock around you as you dance, begging their parents for coins. Silver and copper land about your feet. After a few dances your share is quite substantial for such a short performance in such a small town. It seems that the swell of the Magnimarian and Korvosan visitors will make performing quite prosperous today.
The exotic woman motions over to several wonderful smelling dishes before speaking with a thick accent in somewhat halting common.
"From my homeland, gentlemen. [She gives a polite bow, running dexterious fingers through the fox's fur as she does so.] All free for festival day. Already my cooking is the talk of the town, if I may self-promote. And if you enjoy it, my tavern and inn, the Rusty Dragon, is always serving. And did I hear something about monster hunting? Adventurers sleep for free at my business, and get a significant discount on drinks, as long as they are willing to share a story or two during peak hours. Ameiko Kaijitsu."
As you amuse local children you catch the eye of someone far more notable. The haughty actress from the stage this morning, Allishanda, approaches.
"Well, I suppose I gained something for coming to this backwater rat's nest. That is a cute trick you've developed. [She gives a curt nod to the flash-powder.] I find that stage effects and props improve my performance from its already unshakable position. Perhaps you should speak with Cyrdak. I'll put in a good word for you and he may just commission a stack of supplies from you to avoid the need for magical chanting on the stage. Asmodeous knows he literally threw gold at my feet to get me to perform here for this...celebration. That I must admit I do occasionally entertain the guilty pleasure of slumming it at commoner taverns. Let's say you ditch these little runts and fetch me a glass of wine; or I here some exotic girl is handing out orange flavored liquor to go with breakfast. [She keeps her chin through her entire speech.]"
"I do like gold."
It looks as though the green, red, and silver dragons have already been claimed for the next race and the game's proprietor is fishing about for a final contestant.
Ansruath says "Gold it is than." he than walks up to the man running the race and says "Hello neighbor I would like to bet on the gold dragon."
Despite your and Shayliss's excited urging, the "dragon" wanders forward about five feet before catching sight of a fly and wanding back to the starting line. There are a few chuckles and giggles from the crowd as it snaps at the insect. You are currently in last place, but the race isn't over yet. However, all is not lost as some of the other contestants appear to be having similar troubles. The silver and red lizards are aout a third of the way down the thirty foot track, but the green lizard is near your own, maybe a few paces ahead.
Dherisan gives a quick bow as Ember stretches out his neck and offers a soft grunt of pleasure.
"Pleased to meet you, Ameiko. I am Dherisan Shiarzik. And while I may not be a practiced hunter like Flit here, I'm more than familiar with the wild places of Varisia."
He nearly coughs as he samples a piece of salmon, his eyes going wide they dart across the other dishes on the table, searching for the next morsel.
"And if this is what you serve at your inn," he adds, "Then I'd be more than happy to stay in town for a day or two and share some of the stories I've gathered. I might not be as practiced in storytelling as some, but I can still tantalize open ears with tales of Varisian caravans, warring Shoanti tribes, and perhaps an enlightening take on goblins for more open-minded crowds."
He helps himself to another piece of fish before turning his attention to the plates, tracing a finger along the serpentine forms decorating them.
"Truth be told, I'm interested in the stories you have to tell. I always welcome the chance to learn of new people and new cultures, and forgive my ignorance, but I possess little to no knowledge of Tian-Xia. What is this creature, for example? It seems to be some sort of dragon-kin, like those in the tales of the Ulfen, though I've never seen them sporting such whiskers."
"Ah, I'm afraid I'll not be long enough to study a language, especially one so complex. But your father runs the glass-works? And you are responsible for these delectable dishes? It's a wonder that your family isn't running Sandpoint."
Ansruath says to the man after taking the medal "Thank you neighbor." He than turns to Shayliss to say in a soft voice "Thank you for showing me around the festival I best be going I do not wish to keep you from you work. I will look around for a bit for myself."
Gorgoron wanders down the thoroughfare taking a look at different tables and displays. When he sees the table Tardek has set up he approaches.
"Good morning, this is a morning for surprises. This is quite the setup you have here. Are you a physic or a chemist, or some sort of combination of the two? I have quite the interest in the healing arts myself, and I'm always interested in meeting those of the trade."
He turns to the actress as well.
"Your pardon mistress, I didn't mean to interrupt. I look forward to seeing your performance; your reputation as a performer is the talk of many a conversation these days."
Ansruath thinks for a moment than says to her "You most likely will not find me I plan to leave after the festival is over. I just came for the festival. He than looks up at the sky with a sad look on his face.
Dherisan gives a soft smile. "I appreciate your offer, Ameiko, and I think I shall certainly stay for a few days, but Sandpoint is a nice town, and that is precisely why I must move on. I've made a habit of lending my aid to Varisia's smaller communities and many of its Shoanti tribes. Sandpoint is a lovely distraction, but I am not needed here, and I'm afraid I'd not rest easy wondering what might befall those less defensible settlements. Still, I do come through the city every few months during my circuit, and I do believe that visits to your inn shall become part of my routine."
"Well then. Here's to Desna in the hopes that the winds of wind blow us toward one another again. [bb][She lifts a wine stem from a nearby table.][/b] Thank you for a lovely morning. I will cherish my gift."
"My reputation does indeed reach far."
Tardek is clearing his work space whne the actress approaches. He regards her with measuring eyes as she talks, looking her up and down, his jet black irises appearring as enlarged pupils, giving his observations an additional air of intensity.
Whether or not he appreciates what he sees is not displayed on his face however. He finishes replacing every neatly, and hands out all but the kindness and one pouch of flashpowder to others before removing his apron and folding it tightly, wrapping it into his belt.
'Well madame, it is refreshing to be approached by a female despite my verdigris epidermis. I am Doctor Tardek Skarn. I'd be happy to lease my services to the production for appropriate funding and adequate pay. My skills are not without need of practice, as rare as they are beyond larger cities.' He rolls down his sleeves as he speaks, buttoning the cuffs fastidiously.
'I would be happy to accompany you to this purveyor of liquor. Perhaps I may retrieve a sample if some of it is truly exotic. Tell me, he says striding around to tower over the attractive woman, he asks as they begin to walk [b]'Tell me, as a drinker of alcohol yourself, how valuable would this simple concoction be? He raises a small blue-tinted vial which smells vaguely of cinnamon.
'It's an alchemist's kindness. A cure for the disastrous morning after sufferings of alcoholic imbibers.'
Ansruath says to Shayliss "You are welcome for the morning." He than walks around until he sees the sight of a dwarf, half-orc and human women speaking to each other. This being the first time he has seen a half-orc in many years and this one is speaking to a dwarf. Thinking to himself "That is a bit odd" He than walks up to the trio to say in a calm voice "Hello neighbors."